


rewind

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Experimental, Journal Entry Style, M/M, this is so problematic im amazed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 10:13:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4475507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p> hajime remembers when tooru used to play the piano.</p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	rewind

 

"It is no longer an illness or a passing fit; it is I."

\-- Jean-Paul Sartre, Nausea

 

* * *

 

 

[ **entry** ??]

[ **time and date** : ??:?? / ??-??-??]

 

 

_how do you play the piano? how do you play music? i cannot truly say, for my fingers are preoccupied with the art of translating my soul into language. i once had a friend (more than a friend -- i don't know honestly) who'd let me watch as he sat on leather chairs -- gliding and shifting his calloused fingers through black and white keys. i'd watch as his shadows would hang under his eyes, his hair, his lips, (that of which i might have touched with my own once) and his jaw. there were no words but i'd watch as he endlessly poured himself into the deceitful instrument -- all hearts on tattered sleeves._

 

_now, i cannot describe to you the pain of hearing the notes falter and cease into the end, of pale hands no longer placed where they're supposed to be on those keys. he wouldn't listen to my incessant warnings, wouldn't leave the leather seat, wouldn't pay attention to the pools of sweat forming beneath him, and thus he forgot what he was playing for._

 

_i couldn't truly hear any chopin or beethoven piece when his fingers were so intent on non-existent perfection. i can only hear the chug of pills during rehearsals, the hair-wretching and the tears trickling onto those wretched black and white keys. why -- why is it that this excessive pouring of the soul would result into its own bruises, of gloved hands no longer shifting on keyboards. why wouldn't he listen to me?! all his regrets are written on drug prescriptions and now there are no more swaying shadows on his face._

 

_i keep thinking, what could i have done? what else could i have done? the image of gliding fingers keeps replaying in my mind, stuck on some tune he can no longer play! it haunts me to my deathbed, his deathbed._

 

_what more could i have done?_

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this back in 2014 and im not rly part of the hq fandom anymore but i just rly needed this out of my system
> 
> basically oikawa is a pianist and iwa's a writer and in here they still have this codependent relationship. im v much aware of oikawa's recent character development but i wrote this way back so do forgive
> 
>  
> 
> this fic was meant to be vague so uhh its up to you guys to interpret whatever just happened ??? i guess?? ok bye


End file.
